


Burn

by VeryImpressive



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Graphic Description, M/M, Male Slash, Other, Violence, angbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryImpressive/pseuds/VeryImpressive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They would all burn for taking everything away from him - every single one of them, he swore that. [Angbang] [Sauron/Melkor]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Marion's Point of View**

**Year 587 of the First Age**

**The War of Wrath - Angband**

I was a Maia.

Maia didn’t sweat.

They didn’t break and they certainly did not _panic_.

I was though, I was sweating, I was within a breath of breaking _completely_ at the final loss that we were about to suffer – and I was panicking, no matter how much I had tired to delude myself that I wasn’t. It wasn’t until the moment that the enemy had managed to surround Angband that I finally realized that we could indeed lose the war.

When our forces began to dwindle and the armies of the Valinor began to encroach further and further towards the mountains that sat atop the fortress, I knew we had lost. It was only a matter of time before they penetrated the fortress – and it was because of that fact that I left the battlefield, leaving command to my own lieutenants.

Now I was rushing towards the inner sanctum of Angband, attempting to appear to the orcs that were running in the opposite direction, as if I wasn’t running. Our pawns would serve their purpose and they would lay down their lives for Melkor without question. They would also defend the fortress until the enemy was forced to kill each and every one of them that stood in their way – that possibility was so _very_ possible.

If I knew my master, which I did, intimately, I knew that Melkor would want to make it as difficult as possible to reach him. He would take every last life that he could before the Valar reached him. Even if he was dragged back to the west in chains, he would take at least a small bit of satisfaction in the fact that he’d taken many as many as them as he could have with him.

No, Melkor would not lay down and die for them.

As the doors to the throne room appeared in my line of sight, I stepped up my pace.

My blood and sweat stained robes were chaffing uncomfortably against my skin.

Sweat poured from my forehead.

My heart was beating out of my chest.

The drums of war and the far off battle cries were growing louder.

We had lost this war.

It was difficult to imagine that the Valar had finally stepped in, and it was difficult for me to comprehend the fact that we had lost it even still. Melkor was the most powerful of the Valar, even if they themselves didn’t count him amongst their ranks anymore.

I had to keep in mind what Melkor had always told me about this war though.

Even as I forced the doors to the throne with open with a swift wave of my hand and took off at a fully fledged run towards the throne, I had to remember that it wasn’t the end. It was quite simply impossible to kill a Vala, Eru himself could only do it – and he wouldn’t do that. Even if Melkor’s physical body was destroyed here, or in Valinor, he would endure, and one day – even if it was ages from now, he would return to power.

“My lord!” I greeted somewhat breathlessly as I kneeled before the Iron Throne.

When I looked up from the position, on the ground, Melkor was sitting in full armor, clutching his beloved mace in one hand and staring at the ground, listlessly, before him.

The jewels in his crown shone near blinding light throughout the entire throne room, and they served as a stark, and slightly startling, contrast to what appeared on their masters face. Not once in the countless years of knowing him had I seen him look so…

Defeated.

His dark eyes shifted to me, almost startled at my appearance.

“Marion,” I blanched as a small smile came to his face. “You’re here?”

“Of course I’m still here,” I took that as my silent permission to rise from my kneeling position and ignored the sharp pain that racked my left knee. A parting gift from an Elven solider as I fled the battle field. “We’re all still out there, fighting for this war.”

“And the effort will be a lost one,” Melkor looked back down to the feet. “I had thought that you would have had the cool intelligence to abandon this battle, we have lost it.”

I didn’t know what it was.

Melkor had only allowed the bonds of our public relationship to be done away with in _complete_ privacy. The image of a loyal servant to his master was most paramount when one was attempting to do what we were doing. Behind closed doors though, the reality was far different – and it was those moments, late at night, that I lived for.

And that was why I threw all of those boundaries to the void, rushed forward to approach the throne and grasped his cold, scarred face between my two tired hands.

I smiled sadly as he pressed closer to them, absorbing their warmth.

He always was loved touching me, holding me close – giving him some warmth.

“I would never do that,” I answered his faithless accusation and leaned forward to press a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s the mark of a coward and a traitor, and you know that I am neither. You also know that I will follow you _wherever_ they send you.”

His eyes opened and he looked up, “You would follow me to the void?”

I paid no heed to the tears that were now running escaping his eyes.

He was the Dark Lord, it would do his dignity no good.

I knew that he had feared that, ever since the idea first came into the minds of his accursed kin. He feared the emptiness, the darkness and loneliness that imprisonment in the void would give him. If they could not destroy him utterly, they would send him there – and from a completely unbiased perspective, it was the only solution for a problem like him.

Eru would not destroy one of his own children – no matter what he had done.

“I would follow you _anywhere_ ,” The tenor of my voice dropped deeply and I leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. It would be one of the last we’d share for a long time.

I had to savor it.

I was startled by the loud crack of his mace splitting the stone floor for a single moment, but it was as natural as anything when Melkor wrapped his arms around me, pulled me closer and deepened our kiss. What was startling was the passion that he poured into it, and it told me that he too wanted to savor the moment while it lasted. 

When Melkor pulled away from me, he had brought his hands up to begin stroking my cheeks, “It will be ages before we see each other again little one, thousands of years.”

I bit back a sad whine and looked down between us, “And what is to be done?”

“Survive,” He whispered pleadingly and leaned forward to kiss me again. “Survive the accursed forces of the west, for they will hunt you to the ends of the earth. You will carry on my legacy and our work in my name, until the day that I escape my prison.”

He finally acknowledged that he would be imprisoned.

“Remember me to our enemies,” He bit out a whisper as he continued lay kisses on me.

And the next five seconds, and his next three words would set the stage for my future, for I knew that I would never forget them. I knew that they would drive me to distract myself from the pain in my heart over losing him. In that moment, standing before him, I swore that I would inflict unforgettable torment on those responsible for his misery.

“I will miss you Marion,” The Dark Lord of the Earth whispered to me. “And I love you.”

And my world and my heart broke as he pushed me away and ordered me to flee.

And leave him to the small mercies of the Valar.

* * *

 

The fires rising from the ruins of Angband could be seen from hundreds of miles away.

It was over.

Finally, it was over – the Valar had accomplished what they set out to accomplish, and Melkor had been taken. There was nothing that I could possibly do to stop either of those things from going any further, not right now – not this early from the battles of the war. No, there would be time for me to take my vengeance, and it would be grand.

I idly wondered if Melkor’s kin knew of the full extent of our relationship.

As far as they knew, as far as they knew in their limited understanding of the mightiest of all of them – Melkor was only capable of loving himself, first and foremost. They thought him to be so amazingly single minded that the concept of loving another being, or an inanimate object for that matter, over himself was lost, and that wasn’t Melkor, not at all.

He loved me.

Was it a selfish love? Perhaps.

Was it a possessive love? Oh, most certainly.

Would he travel the ends of the universe to pull me back to his side? Yes.

But the fact of the matter was that I would do the same for him, and I loved him like he loved me. And until the day came when I saw him again, I wouldn’t be whole.

And somehow, even hundreds of miles away from the battle, I could hear their cheers.

The defeat of Sauron the Abhorred and the Dark Enemy of the World.

The scowl on my face deepened as I turned towards the east.

Melkor and I had several fall back positions deeper into Middle Earth, places where we could go in the case of defeat in Beleriand. Fortified, hidden and quiet positions within the Earth, armies, uncountable legions of orcs that could be bred quickly, were waiting to be called upon at will.

Well, I had made those plans – Melkor didn’t believe that we could be defeated.

But he had allowed me to proceed – humoring me most likely.

They were more useful than it seemed evidently.

With a flourish of my hand, I felt my bones shrink and contract, my body invert inwards and the field of view slant upwards.

As a bat, I would elude any spies that they had patrolling, until I could get out of range.

And as I flew away from the past and into the future, I swore one thing…

They would burn – they would _all_ burn in the end for taking _everything_ away from me.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**Marion's Point of View**

**Year 3419 of the Second Age**

**Armenelos - The Palace of the Kings of Númenor - The Island of Númenor**

* * *

Men.

They were so easily influenced.

It hadn’t been too easy by any stretch of the imagination, but it had been easier than I had expected. I had already won, that much was clear, even if most of them did not see it. Al-Pharazon’s arrogance, and his overconfidence in the fact that he _thought_ he had subdued me had been the very moment they had lost this struggle.

I cast a side glance at the King and let a small smile cross onto my face.

He was a curious creature – someone that was so sure that he had the world in his hands. He, like his predecessors, believed themselves to be the rightful blessed of Eru. Not the Maia, not the Valar, and certainly not the firstborn. This quaint little island was a monument to their self-important delusion.

From the moment I’d arrived, it reeked of their self-importance.

But Al-Pharazon was a quaint creature nonetheless.

He had been so easily swayed by a touch – the sight of skin, hips, hair.

It would be his undoing.

“My Lord Sauron, what say you on that matter?” His voice broke my thoughts.

My eyes drifted back up to the throne and I locked eyes with him, “If there are any navigators in creation that can break the barrier between you and the west, surely they serve this court. I can perhaps provide you an Elvish navigator if you wish?”

The Elves _did_ have the ability to cross the Enchanted Isles with relative ease – more so than any man did, or even could.

An entire army of men was another matter entirely

But I could not provide a navigator right away.

I fixed the King of Men with a soft expression – one that would stab into his lust induced heart. That lust, taken into my own two hands, had allowed me to conquer the King of Men without so much as lifting a sword. It was exactly what I had done with the Elves in the forging of my ring, and because of that, Eregion and Númenor, not to mention their leaders, would share the same fate.   **  
**

Melkor would be pleased with my deception of the First and Second Born.

He would more than likely crush Al-Pharazon’s skull with his bare hands – for dragging me to his home in chains – and for “claiming” my body as his own toy.

And for having the nerve to proclaim himself my master.

But he would be pleased.

“As always you’re right,” I smiled inwardly as Al-Pharazon nodded and turned to look back at his other advisors. “Find a skilled navigator for our great endeavor.”

How wonderful.

The invasion of the Undying Lands would go forward as planned.

I fully expected the Valar to repel them – but there was a chance that they’d fail.

And I will have won, either way.

* * *

The setting sun burned red over the ocean.

I had done my duty in seeing off the hordes of Al-Pharazon – and the King himself.

The rate at which I had taken the ceremonial duties of the Queen of e was nearly laughable. The fact that the King had called me to the port to send him off as if I were his loyal, trusting and ever-so needed lover and companion was endlessly amusing. When Númenor burned and sunk beneath the waves, or when it fell completely in utter submission, it would amuse me for countless years to come.

Still, in the pit of my stomach I longed to return to my throne.

How I longed to inflict tortures on Al-Pharazon that would impress even Melkor himself. The unmitigated arrogance of the fool, to touch me, to possess me without regard to who I was, to _what_ I was. I was not some mere mortal, I was not some object of victory that Al-Pharazon fancied me to be, I had power he could not fathom. The fact that I hadn’t used it was only due to his continued usefulness.

I would win one day though, and I hoped that in the end, before I bound him completely to my will, that he had realized that he had fallen so deeply for me.

The being a literal god had _struggled_ to tame – and never really did.

“You lead them to their damnation, you must know that,” A voice sounded from behind my position at the balcony of my chambers that overlooked the eastern sea.

I almost blanched.

 _Almost_.

I wasn’t so much surprised by the being, as I was surprised by the fact that the being had managed to encroach in my private chambers without me feeling him.

“No I don’t,” I replied smoothly and turned to the meet the blue eyes of the intruder. “I simply took what was in his heart, brought it into the light and showed it to him. Showed himself what he was, and that is an imperfect creature of greed.”

As were all of the second born – in their baser nature at least.

“The Valar will not allow them to reach to the shore,” Eönwë had not changed in the slightest. The so-called “chief” of the Maia had always had a no-so special talent for stating the obvious – and I simply smirked at him, that was all I had to say to him.

“I didn’t expect that they would, but it would be a nice surprise,” I made of a show stretching my neck leisurely – almost in an attempt to mock the seriousness of the situation. “If they manage to penetrate the valley, it will come as a very welcome surprise. If it happens, I will have won, and if doesn’t, I will still have won a great victory.”

And if Al-Pharazon did manage to penetrate into the Valinor, I hoped that Eönwë’s accursed master would see the fires, and understand that they were for Melkor.

Even in his exile, his will shaped the world through me – and I hope it irked them.

I hope it terrified them.

I hope they realized that it was just the beginning. 

"Why are you doing this? Why are you _still_ doing this?" Eönwë's voice turned a touch desperate as I turned away from him and looked back towards the crimson stain of the sun light over the ocean. "Morgoth is gone, long gone, you can still come home, you can still be welcomed back into the loving arms of our father-..."

"Even after all that I've done?" I humored him.

The truth was, in the deepest pit of my mind, I had humored the idea seriously only twice before. One was right before I entered the service of Melkor, and the other was about a century after the fall of Angband and the imprisonment of Melkor in the void. I had even gone to Eönwë - and I had nearly, very nearly renounced him.

Part of why I had summarily rejected that offer was out of fear and loathing of most of the Valar. If there was any group of beings that had the power to completely destroy me, it was them, and I knew that I had made powerful enemies with them.

The other, Melkor himself.

He might have been locked away, his soul imprisoned in the Void, but even now, ages later, I could feel my loyalty to him - my love for him still under the surface.

I just could not betray him, not under any circumstances.

"Because it was what I was meant to do right now," I replied very simply, though I did allow him the privilege of hiding some of my sadness into my voice. "If there will ever come a day when I'm allowed to return - it will be at the mercy of our Father himself. Even then, I would still be treated as a pariah and you _know_ it."

As the official head of our race, Eönwë had prided himself on being a leader to all of us. After the final battle, and after I nearly handed myself over to him and the Valar, he'd been so sure that it would work out, that everything would be fine.

But our creator would never kill one of his own children - not matter what they'd done.

If I lost in the end, I would not die - not truly.

In fact, there was the distinct possibility that Eönwë would come to my defense.

Poor, sweet, deluded Eönwë.

"Let it not be said that I did not give you a chance to return, more than one, more than you rightly deserved." I turned back slightly as his tone hardened. "You will answer for your crimes Marion, that much is certain, but I gave you the easier route. I hope you have the strength for the dark route you've chosen for yourself."

 _'So be it...'_ I hissed back at him in my mind.

And without saying another word to me, I watched as his corporeal body transformed into an eagle.

The eagle, a herald, and a hated one, of his even-more deluded master.

Clenching my fists slightly, I watched as Eönwë flew past me and out of the balcony and back to the west.

I had never put much stock in what he had to say, even in the days before my supposed fall into darkness. The only reason, and it was the _only_ reason, that Eönwë was deemed _superior_ to me was due to his role as the subservient slave to Manwë, the King of the Valar. That, in itself, was subjective, because I served Melkor.

And Melkor was more powerful than _all_ of them.

If Eönwë were to ever enter direct combat with me, he knew that I would break him - and once again, he knew it too.

But all of that aside, there was something foreboding in his words.

Something was coming, and in the pit of stomach, I knew I couldn't stop it.

* * *

Four days later, the earthquakes began.

While the people of the island were beside themselves in fear, the quakes themselves did not particularly shake me. The courtiers knew what I was, where I came from and what I was capable of. However, they did not quite know that I myself was involved in the very marring of the Earth itself.

Volcanic eruptions, death, screaming, chaos, I marveled in all of it - the glorious, a deep despair.

This was nothing.

* * *

By the end of mid-day on the fifth day since the beginning of Al-Pharazon's great endeavor - the Island of Númenor began to literally tear itself apart.

All the while, the retched common classes of the second born were dissolving into social anarchy. Rape, murder, theft, assault, self-sacrifice to Melkor, the reports were now streaming into the palace of the absolute chaos that was unfolding.

This was turning out to far more delectable than I could have ever hoped for

* * *

 

On the sixth day, I was awoken to the frantic screams of thousands below, and the sounds of the guards shouting for the evacuation of the Palace to begin.

Being drawn to the same balcony that Eönwë had left from - my eyes slowly widened as I absorbed the sight of what was approaching the Island of Men.

I had lived many lives, I had ended many lives and I had witnessed and committed tortures that would break the souls of even the most jaded and cynical beings. I had seen war, I had fought in battles that would go down through history as carnage incarnate. As such, there were very few instances where I was rendered speechless.

This was one of those times.

Not since the days of the marring of the Earth had I seen a tidal wave of such magnitude.

It was most certainly not something born of nature, I could tell that much.

Even as it approach the island at a breakneck pace, and began to swallow the poor citizens of the Kingdom of Númenor in its apocalyptic current - I tried to think of a way to stop this. I tried to think of a way to stop the fact that I was about to lose my corporeal form and perish with beings that I was simply not meant to perish with.

I found none.

When the wave smashed into the Palace, and I was swallowed up by the abyss, for an infinitesimal my vision was dark.

And for the first time in my entire existence, I knew it what death was.

I knew what the darkness was, real darkness.

I knew the Void.

And it terrified me, sent a shockwave of horror through me that I had never felt.

And for an even smaller point of time, my entire essence ached for Melkor.

No single being of Eru's design deserved this darkness.

Not even him.


End file.
